Parting's Temptation
by Nakimochiku
Summary: It was their last night together, and Matthew wants to give himself to Francis, because he didn't have enough of him yet. oneshot, France x Canada, enjoy.


Parting's Temptation

Francis could feel Matthew's eyes on him. The violet-blue gaze was hard, calculating, pathetically sad. There was guilt burning inside, he knew. He knew when Matthew broke into uncontrollable tears when he first came home after seven long years of war, touching his bruised face as though to apologize.

"_I'm sorry... I'm sorry, this is all my fault!"_

So he hid his shaking fingers, thin and bloodied, wracked with pain, like the rest of his body. Nothing had really healed yet, the large wounds pulled apart each day. Instead, he hummed happily to himself, cooking dinner the same way he always had.

_He had to keep up the sense of normality, this was all he had left._

"Papa." Matthew's arms worked their way around his middle, strong and possessive. He wouldn't let go. He refused to let go. Love made him want to stop time and stay like this forever... If only. And he was only a child, about to lose everything that he knew.

Francis sighed, smiling gently as he turned, returning Matthew's embrace, the stove warm against his back. Matthew's cheeks were stained with tears, his eyes big and glassy as he looked up at him. Francis kissed his forehead.

_This was all they could do, all they could say, for each other now._

Arthur was coming in the morning to take Matthew to England with him. It hurt. Having Matthew cut out of him hurt. Losing his colony hurt. Losing the war hurt. Letting Arthur laugh at him, even as he groveled at the Englishman's feet, begging...

"_Please, please don't take Matthew away from me....!"_

It hurt.

Matthew's fingers twisted in his shirt, burying his face into his chest where he inhaled a familiar scent. He sniffled loudly, trying to memorize the smell, the feel. And Francis couldn't help his grim smile, looking down at Matthew sadly. He wanted to cry as well.

_Tears wouldn't be enough. This was Matthew. His Matthew._

"I don't want you to leave me." He mumbled, holding Francis tighter, promising that he wouldn't ever let go. He was only an angry child, about to lose the only person he'd ever loved. Francis had shown him his whole world, brought magic to life before his eyes. He loved Francis more than he could comprehend.

And Arthur was taking him away from his Papa. He hated Arthur. Hated him as much as one his age could. How dare Arthur take him away? "I want you to be with me forever, and never go anywhere else. You're mine! My papa!" The glare he gave was a petulant pout, but it was fierce, hatred boiling beneath the surface.

_Like those days when he was feral, hissing like a cat._

"Ma petite Souris, I will not be leaving you. I will visit you sometimes." He pet the waves of gold framing Matthew's flushed face, turning just enough to take the pancakes off of the stove, since Matthew wouldn't let go long enough for him to cook, afraid that he might suddenly disappear. The excuses felt pitiful even to his ears. "And we still have tonight, so–..."

"That isn't enough!" The Canadian hissed abruptly, cutting Francis off. The Frenchman bent down to look into the other's eyes, turning the pale face when wouldn't come to meet his. He was glaring at the wall, his face red as he was forced to explain. "I want more of Papa than just that. I want him to be mine." He started to cry again, and really, the boy had just stopped. He'd been crying all day.

"_I don't want to leave! Papa, I don't want to leave! Don't make me! Don't leave me!"_

So Francis wrapped him in his arms, cradling him as he picked him up and carried him over to the comfortable chaise. They sat together, the boy in his lap as he rocked them back and forth, humming lullabies. Matthew was sniffling quietly and Francis playing in his hair, the strands of gold were fine and smooth between his fingers.

"Papa." Matthew looked up at him with quiet determination, undoing the buttons of his shirt, slowly, erotically, watching him steadily. Waiting for his reaction. One hand slid up to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling in the blonde ringlets as he pulled Francis down to his level. Francis felt his breath hitch in gentle surprise, he had taught the boy well...

_Too well!_

The kiss he gave was sweet and gentle, and by force of habit, Francis responded, pulling Matthew closer. His hands explored the pale chest revealed to him, Matthew's shiver and quiet moan flowing through his fingertips, reverberating. It kindled excitement inside of him. So innocent, so cute.... He had to remind himself that Matthew was just distressed, didn't know what he was doing.

He was so tempting, lips damp, red and parted in open invitation, eyes shining with adoration and lust. His untainted body begging to be taken, tortured, abused, violated.

"I...I want Papa to take me, so that I'll be yours....and I'll have more of you." He buried his face in his neck, kissing at the pulse he found, nuzzling the stubbled skin that tickled his face.

Francis groaned, warring with lust and indecision. Did he have any idea how wonderful that sounded? Taking Matthew, making him his eternally, kissing him and touching him until he cried out, his entire body ready for him, arching against him, pale skin damp with sweat as he cried his name. But this wasn't just anyone.

This was Matthew.

_Don't do this. I can't do this to you. Not you._

Matthew was half out of his mind with grief, appealing to him in the only way he knew how. Through sex and seduction. Even with this, his cheeks were wet. "Papa, this isn't enough. Make love to me." He pulled Francis in for another kiss, which he indulged Matthew in because it hurt, and Matthew's lips were sweet.

Francis finally pulled away, stopping the younger from going in for another kiss. He couldn't stand the heart break in those violet-blue eyes, the determination, the sorrow, the need....

_And it was the need that was worse, because it made him want to give in._

"On our last night together, you wish to spend it like this?" His hands set to work on re-fastening the buttons, and this time he couldn't hide the shaking of his fingers. So he didn't look at Matthew's face, didn't look as Matthew's tears fell anew. When he was finished, the boy took his hands, kissing each crooked finger, unable to stop the cries that escaped, the heart wrenching sobs.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

He let Matthew lay in his arms and cry, kissing him on his forehead.

"I love you, Papa."

_Those words hurt him. More than Matthew could ever know._

But he nodded, tucking the blonde head under his chin, humming peacefully. The French lullabies were calming, replaced the normal that he desperately needed. He wasn't sorry for saying no. in the end, he only would have hurt Matthew more. This was the best he could do. "I love you too, Ma Petite Souris."

But it hurt.

Owari


End file.
